The daily prompt :Burnt, lamenting the things you couldn’t save

Tags

fires, mementos, nostalgia, postaday2013, saving, sentimental value, value

The daily prompters have been on a negative bend lately. Their latest is to write about the items that you couldn’t save from your “burning home” and to tell them how it makes you feel. It’s difficult typing from the couch which is what these prompts have been making me think of, sessions on the therapists couch, but these are really sad, hang on while I grab myself a box of Kleenex.

The baby boy drew this veloceraptor at the tender age of 5

the baby girls entrance into the art gallery at the fair when she was four

 

the baby boy’s self portrait when he was 14

the baby girl’s first oil painting when she was 10

These are the art works that I would have been crying my eyes out as the “flames” were engulfing my home. Both of my children absolutely loved coloring, drawing, painting and everything else to do with hands on artistic expression. It was wonderful and each year; my mother-in-law proudly entered both of their masterpieces in the Blandford Art fair. However for some reason, once they both entered adolescence, their fascination and interest in art  went away completely. That is why these pieces, we have more, are so precious. They are irreplaceable since they both refuse to pick up a crayon, a piece of charcoal or a paintbrush. I know the talent is there in both of them, but they aren’t interested in pursuing it so I have to hang onto my precious masterpieces, because I will never get another piece of art work out of either one of them again. Sniff, sniff.

 

 

 

 

Resolution solution

Which New Year's resolution haven't you kept? Why? How will you redouble your efforts to achieve your goal?

Enough with the New Year's resolutions. Plinky is becoming a nag, this is their second or third prompt about resolutions. We get the hint, perhaps it's reverse psychology on the prompters part; they haven't kept true to their resolutions so they are nagging the rest of us about ours. I am being cranky I know; probably because my resolution, finishing my novel, is not an easy task.

I have been working on my book, reading on the history of New York City during prohibition. I don't mind talking about my progress regarding my novel; I have written about the difficulties I have with writing fiction; I can write about my daily life and my political views without breaking a sweat but for some reason when I have to put my characters' inner emotions, anxieties and dreams onto paper, it feels as if I am pulling the words out of my head like my dentist pulling my wisdom tooth from my mandible. On the other hand whenever my character is eating or talking about future eating prospects, the scribe can't stop writing. Love food. I am whittling away at my book, it will get finished. I promised myself that I will do this and it will be done. It just feels like such an exposure of my inner person and I don't know why. Nevertheless I will persevere.